A Dollar Seventy-Five
by Fayolinn
Summary: AltMal coffee shop AU. When Malik's coffee maker breaks, he's forced to go elsewhere and gets more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Originally written in March of 2013.**

**Coffee shop AUs are a hit on Tumblr, so when it caught on with AssCreed fandom, I couldn't resist participating.**

* * *

Malik stepped into the small, cozy coffee shop with an all-too-visible frown. He was far from happy. Normally he strayed away from shops such as this because he had a wonderful coffee maker of his own at home – a coffee maker that could make regular, black coffee just the way he liked it. Who needed extra, unnecessary additions such as milk, cream, or sugar? So many ways to ruin perfectly good coffee!

But today his coffee maker was broken, and until he could fix or replace it, Malik was out of luck. He was forced to go to the place he usually adamantly avoided. But without his coffee, Malik's mood was more sour than normal; and so for the sake of his brother and coworkers who had to deal with him later in the day, he stepped inside with gritted teeth.

The line was relatively short, which came as a small surprise, and soon it was Malik's turn. His eyes fell upon the cashier – a thin, lean man roughly about his age. He had a head of medium brown hair, jagged bangs resting lightly on his forehead. His eyes moved from the previous customer to Malik, and his dark, golden eyes glimmered as his thin lips spread into a grin. That's when Malik noticed the scar across the right side of his mouth, and Malik found himself wondering how he came across it. How such a handsome man had the fate to bear such a blemish. Wait – had he considered this cashier _handsome_?

"What would you like to order… sir?"

Malik blinked; he had momentarily forgotten to appear dissatisfied, and thus corrected his mistake instantly. "One medium black coffee," he said simply, waiting for the other man to laugh, waiting for him to question as to why he had come in at all for such a simple drink. _Are you sure? _they usually asked. _No whip cream on that? No cream?_

But the cashier simply grinned, ringing up his order. Malik found he couldn't ignore those shining, golden eyes. "That'll be one dollar and seventy-five cents."

Malik paid and went to wait in the corner. As he left the counter, though, he noticed in his peripheral vision one of the cashier's coworkers – a young lad with brunet hair tied back in a short ponytail – sidle up to Malik's cashier and subtly nudge his side with his elbow, nodding in Malik's direction. Whatever. Malik didn't care. He had no time for such thoughts. Perhaps he had just misinterpreted the gesture anyway.

The third man behind the counter – a large, but youthful man with dark skin and a genuine smile – handed him his coffee in due time and Malik turned to leave. Something compelled him to look back however, and as he did so, he noticed the golden-eyed cashier glancing his way. Catching Malik's eye, he flashed a smile and waved a hand that revealed half a finger missing. Malik stared dumbly until another customer kindly tapped his shoulder and asked him to move.

* * *

A week passed and Malik had plenty more cups of black coffee in the safety and comfort his own home. His coffee maker had been repaired and his mood improved considerably. And yet… it wasn't the same. Ever since he had tasted that coffee shop's coffee…

Malik growled, crumpling the paper he had been reviewing and shoving it into the trash. The coffee he had made sat untouched beside him on the desk, slowly growing cold. He had been considering returning, but no, he couldn't. He couldn't, because he knew it wasn't just their coffee he craved.

Everywhere he went, a pair of golden eyes followed him. Not literally, but it seemed that every time he closed his eyes, Malik could picture those eyes perfectly – even that smirk with the scar. It was maddening and every time he tried complaining to Kadar, his little brother, the boy would just look at him quizzically.

And so it was with gritted teeth once more that Malik made his way to the coffee shop again. Sure enough, there was his – when did he exactly become _his_? – cashier, head slightly tilted to one side, wearing the same grin and black apron Malik remembered, and oh look, a nametag. Attempting to be as surreptitious as possible, Malik glanced at it. _Altaïr_. It was interesting enough.

"You're the one who likes his coffee black, am I right?"

Malik snapped out of his reverie, gazing upwards. "Ah – yes." How he had remembered that, Malik was intensely curious, but he wasn't about to risk embarrassing himself further. He cleared his throat, reaching into his pocket for the money. "Dollar seventy-five, right?"

Altaïr's lips parted into a smile, revealing a row of white teeth. "You're good." He accepted the exact change, his hands working deftly. The hands with nine fingers total. As Malik turned to wait for his order, images of that smile lingered in his mind's eye and didn't leave him for the rest of the week.

* * *

And so it became a weekly ritual. Malik only allowed himself to visit once a week – else Kadar and everyone else he knew would grow suspicious – and before he was aware, he came to know Altaïr's coworkers as they came to know him. There was Ezio, the flirty Italian whom Malik had seen nudge Altaïr that very first day; he introduced himself the third week, blue-grey eyes flashing with understanding. "Altaïr's got good taste," he said to which Malik replied with a deep frown.

Then there was Connor, a bear of a man only in appearance. He was quiet but kind, and shrugged his shoulders apologetically every time Ezio spewed strange words. "He's like that with everybody," he said, placing a lid on Malik's cup. "Women and men alike. He likes to believe his friends' love lives are his business."

Malik would never willingly admit it, but he was coming to look forward to and even enjoy his visits. Sure, Ezio rubbed him the wrong way more often than not, but the atmosphere was friendly enough. He found himself staying longer and longer each week, bringing his work along to review there in the shop. At times Connor would sometimes join him during his breaks, sometimes Ezio, but it was Altaïr who joined him the most, and it was Altaïr's company he liked best. But remember, he'd never admit it.

He came to know Altaïr had lost his finger while preparing onions. "Pretty sad, right?" Altaïr waved the fingers on his left hand in emphasis, grinning despite himself. "You're the first person I've told the truth to about it, though. When I first worked here and met Ezio, I told him I lost it while surfing during a shark attack. For Connor, I made up a story about wrestling a crocodile." When Malik raised his eyebrows, Altaïr laughed. It was a short, light one, but Malik had to look away to conceal his burning cheeks.

* * *

A couple months passed. Small facts were exchanged back and forth as well as phone numbers, but Malik refused to give anything more than that or visit more often. Already he was noticing that Kadar was catching on how he was missing every Monday morning and afternoon, and knowing his brother, word was traveling fast. His coworkers were giving him funny looks.

Every week Altaïr would have his coffee ready and waiting. Every week he would take his break at the same time, swinging around the counter to take a seat with Malik in their favorite, reserved table. Every week for the past three months this had been happening, once a week, until one particular morning in late November.

Altaïr had the black coffee ready behind the counter, steaming beside him. The customers came and went, but as his golden eyes continued to scan the moving crowd, they failed to find their target. Altaïr began to worry when Malik was over an hour late from his usual appointed time; even Ezio and Connor exchanged curious looks.

"Ah, don't worry, Al!" Ezio clapped him on the back, grinning widely. "He'll show up. I mean, come on; he's not me, so it's not like he replaced you with some hot chick already or anything. Hey, don't look at me like that; we all know you were thinking it!"

Altaïr chewed the inside of his cheek. He liked to think Ezio was right. Malik was his friend – only a friend – but the thought of him spending his Monday mornings with a woman – or even another man, if Malik swung that way – put Altaïr on edge. He couldn't explain this odd protectiveness he was developing for his one-armed companion, but he knew he couldn't deny it either.

At that moment, a man about Altaïr's age rushed in, out of breath. Since there was no line at the moment, he made his way immediately to the counter. "Are you Altaïr?" he huffed.

Altaïr blinked. Ezio and Connor watched from behind him. "Yes?"

The man sighed heavily in relief, catching his breath. "Ah. Good." He took a few more big lungfuls of air before continuing. "My name's Rauf. I didn't come here for coffee, but I have a message for you." He straightened a little. "Malik can't come in today. He has a killer migraine headache and can't even get out of bed."

Altaïr's expression was puzzled. Why had this man, Rauf, come all this way to tell him this? "I…" What was he supposed to say. "That's… that's terrible. Tell him I that I hope he—"

"No, I can't tell him anything, I have to hurry to work after this, but _you_—" He pointed at Altaïr "—you can go tell him yourself. Oh, and bring the coffee. He needs it."

"Me?" Altaïr furrowed his brow. "I – I can't! I'm working, I can't just leave—"

"Nah, we'll cover for you!" Ezio winked. "C'mon, Al. This will score you major points with Malik!"

Altaïr pouted. "But I… I don't even know where he lives."

"Oh! Here." Rauf reached for a nearby napkin and a pen, scribbling quickly. When finished, he placed the napkin in Altaïr's hands. "That's his address, it's not far from here. Just head up the street, you'll get there in less than ten minutes." He was already heading out the door. "Hurry; he's not a happy camper without his coffee, and he'll be glad to see you! He won't speak of anyone else." And then he was gone.

Altaïr stood there, at a loss, napkin still in hand. He stared at the door for a long while before staring at the napkin for an equally long amount of time. Then he looked to his friends.

"Would you just _go_ already?" Ezio grabbed Altaïr's wrist, already pulling him towards the exit. He practically shoved Altaïr out the door, watching satisfyingly as he ran to his car and sped off. Ezio glanced over his shoulder at Connor, giving him a thumbs up. "Just you wait. He won't be single for long."

* * *

Altaïr stepped up to the house, checking the address at least twice to make sure he had the correct place. He stuffed the napkin into his apron pocket – wow, he had been in such a hurry he had forgotten to take it and his nametag off – coffee in his other hand. Taking a deep breath, Altaïr raised his hand to rap his knuckles in quick succession against the door.

Almost instantly, the door cracks open just a sliver. A bright, blue eye peered out at him, widening at the sight of him. "Oh, so _you're _Altaïr!" The door opened fully to reveal what appeared to be an exact copy of Malik – except this boy was slightly younger, a young teen at most, with shockingly blue eyes. His hair was an inch or two longer as well, and he was missing the strip of facial hair on his chin. This must be Kadar; Malik often spoke fondly of him. "Thank god you're here! Malik won't stop complaining and I don't know how to work the coffee maker and he can't get up to show me how and—"

"Alright, alright," soothed Altaïr, raising his hands. "Slow down. I have the coffee here." He held it up. "Why don't you take this to him—"

Kadar shook his head firmly. "No, you better take it. It's _you _he wants to see."

Altaïr's brow furrowed. "Why would he—"

"Just trust me." Kadar issued Altaïr inside, closing the door behind him. "Go on! It's just down that hall to the left, but make sure you knock first or else he may hurl something at your head. Then again, he has a bad headache and you're Altaïr, he really really likes you, so—"

"What—?"

"Just go!"

Altaïr made his way down the designated corridor, heart rate quickening. Kadar had abandoned him to tend to some other chore, so he had to bear this alone. He reached the door and remembered to knock. Hearing nothing, Altaïr swallowed and palmed the doorknob, allowing himself in.

He found Malik immediately, lying buried in sheets upon his bed. The room was simple – modern, clean, and modest – and smelled just like Malik. Altaïr found himself relaxing somehow as he made his way, quietly, to Malik's bedside. The black-haired man was sleeping soundly, eyelids fluttering occasionally. His expression was slightly pained and Altaïr wanted to wake him so he could ease his discomfort, but decided against it. Instead, he set the cup of coffee on Malik's bedside table and turned to leave.

"What're you doing in my house?"

Altaïr froze upon hearing Malik's voice, turning to see Malik gazing dazedly his direction. He attempted to sit up but did so too quickly, wincing and holding his head in his hand. Altaïr rushed back to his bedside, easing him back down gently.

"Your friend Rauf came to me at work," Altaïr began. "Told me about your migraine and gave me your address. Then Kadar let me in, and here I am." Altaïr bit his lip before remembering why he had come. "I have your coffee here."

Malik sighed, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe those two actually got you to come here. I was just going to have Rauf pick up the coffee and bring it back—"

"He mentioned something about being late for work."

"That idiot!" At Altaïr's questioning look, Malik shook his head. "Rauf works the night shift."

"Oh." Altaïr drummed his fingers along the side of Malik's cup. "Well… what about Kadar?"

"Trusting Kadar with my car?" Malik chuckled softly. "He has yet to get his license, and even so, I fear for all drivers and pedestrians alike when he gets on the road. But then there's me, a one-armed driver, so who am I to complain." Malik closed his eyes momentarily before regarding Altaïr. "So, about that coffee."

Altaïr nodded, handing it over. He helped Malik into a comfortable sitting position and watched as he raised the cup to his lips. His hand shook unsteadily, so Altaïr instinctively reached out to help, hands wrapping around Malik's fingers. They both took a sharp intake of breath at the close contact, but taking Malik's silence as compliance, Altaïr didn't recoil.

"Thanks, for that," Malik manages, sinking back into the pillow as Altaïr sets the coffee back down on the stand. Malik's eyes already appeared a little brighter. "And… thanks for coming. It… it means a lot." Suddenly Malik frowned. "You're not going to get into trouble for this, are you?"

Altaïr smiled, tilting his head slightly. "No, Ezio promised to cover for me."

"Well, he's good for _something_."

Altaïr laughed at that. "True. Ezio's… special, but he really is helpful when he wants to be."

Malik nodded absently with a small smile, closing his eyes briefly. Altaïr was sitting so close, he could feel Malik's hip resting against his own.

"You tired?"

"Yeah… just a bit."

Altaïr hummed in response, resting his hand briefly on Malik's. "You should rest then. I'll come visit again later."

Malik opened his eyes to look at Altaïr, and for a moment he looked like he was about to say something. Then, at the last moment, decided against it and nodded in affirmation. "Alright. I'll be counting on you."

"You can always count on me."

Then Malik slept. Altaïr watched as Malik's breathing slowed to a lulling, steady rhythm, his features relaxing as he rested. Altaïr knew he had promised to go but found himself unable to move. It was terribly rude to stay, but Malik looked so peaceful… the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones, the way his lips were parted ever so slightly…

Malik's lips. Altaïr involuntarily licked his own, leaning forward. A strange desire suddenly rose in his chest, causing his pulse to quicken. Perhaps, if he was fast… then Malik would never know… Altaïr was so close, just mere inches away; it was either now or never.

But no… no, he couldn't. It wouldn't be right. And if Malik caught him, he might never forgive him and there was a chance their friendship would be ruined. No, the risk was too great.

Just as he was about to pull away, Malik's eyes snapped open. Altaïr gasped lightly, heart leaping into his throat. Though Altaïr hadn't gone through with the kiss, it was obvious what he had been planning to do; there was no excuses that would pardon him now.

He awaited Malik's wrath, a slap or harsh words, but they never came. Brown eyes gazed into gold, unsaid words passing between them. It was then that Altaïr felt Malik's hand snake up the back of his neck and, before Altaïr could comprehend the situation, pulled him forward into a kiss.

Altaïr was so shocked, he nearly forgot to return the gesture. He had to let Malik know he wanted this equally as much, and therefore recovered quickly, angling his mouth just slightly so that their lips fit together perfectly. Their noses bumped together and Altaïr smiled against Malik's mouth, high on happiness. Soon Altaïr was granted silent permission to use his tongue, and he jumped to the opportunity immediately. Malik tasted wonderful, like black coffee and headache medicine. Altaïr subconsciously brought up his hands to cradle Malik's jaw, allowing him further access. They continued to explore one another, hands roaming across one another's bodies, until the need to breathe became too demanding.

They broke apart reluctantly, each panting slightly. Their eyes locked and they looked at each other until they both dissolved into embarrassed smiles.

"That'll be one dollar and seventy-five cents," Altaïr said, which earned him a nudge in the ribs as he laughed. He figured he deserved that.


	2. Chapter 2

**"Four years or so" years later.**

* * *

Malik pulled into his driveway, parking besides Kadar's new car. It had been a few years since his younger brother had received his license and it had taken months of insistent begging before Malik agreed to purchase Kadar a vehicle of his own. The sensible thing to do would've been to hand over his older car, but Malik was reluctant to give it up – it had served him well over the years and he was used to how it ran.

Malik stared at the car beside him, letting out a small sigh. He often had trouble believing Kadar was now well into college, a fully independent young man and no longer a helpless, clinging boy. Malik would frequently ponder their living situation – they couldn't live together forever. Sometimes he would consider moving in with Altaïr, for they had been going steady for four years or so, but it felt rude to ask or simply assume Altaïr would agree.

But maybe Malik _should_ take the initiative and bring it up with his boyfriend… After all, it wasn't unusual for partners to move in together, and Altaïr was over almost every other day anyhow. Altaïr wasn't shy when expressing his physical needs, but he often needed a little coaxing with his emotional ones.

Did Malik want something more? Perhaps… Having a lover was nice in and of itself, but there was always that small chance Altaïr could move on and cozy up to someone else. Despite Altaïr's unwavering loyalty and firm confirmation that he'd never love any other man or woman – and Malik believed him – it wasn't exactly… _official _that Altaïr was his. The only way to claim him in such a way was… _marriage_.

The word hung heavy in Malik's mind. Marriage wasn't exactly a light ordeal – it was permanent. It meant new responsibilities, new challenges. New opportunities. Thinking about the possibility that one day he could call Altaïr his _husband _made Malik's gut twist in a strange, excited way. But what if Altaïr didn't feel the same way? Malik didn't like to doubt the other man, but he didn't want to raise a false hope… The only one he had revealed his thoughts to was Kadar, and though his brother had given his two cents on the matter, it was ultimately up to Malik to decide what the best course of action to take was.

With another, heavier sigh, Malik opened the car door and gathered his things. He'd mull over this later after he had something to eat. Locking his car behind him, Malik fished through his bag for his key and let himself in.

"I'm home—"

"Malik!" Kadar was racing towards his older brother as if he had been expecting him, his expression beaming.

Malik hesitated, glancing around him, suddenly cautious. "Yes…?"

"Come with me." Kadar reached for a small envelope on a table nearby, placing it in Malik's hand as he headed out the door, his car keys in hand.

Malik stood frozen to the spot, holding the envelope with a confused expression on his face. "Kadar, what—"

"Come _on_," Kadar insisted, his grin wide as he tugged impatiently on Malik's jacket. "I need to take you somewhere. Bring that envelope, you can open it on the way there."

"Kadar, I _just _got home—"

"It'll be worth it, Mal, I promise." Kadar backtracked, gently urging Malik outside again as he locked the door behind him. "I'll drive, we'll take my car."

"You just want to show it off," Malik grumbled under his breath; Kadar either didn't hear him or chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, Malik complied and took the passenger's seat, staring at the blank envelope in his hand as Kadar reversed out of the driveway and began to drive.

"You might want to actually open it soon," Kadar said after a minute. "Glaring at it to death won't help, and we'll arrive at our destination soon."

Malik cast a questioning glance at his brother, but bit his tongue against a snarky remark and obeyed. He was surprised to find money – a dollar and seventy-five cents – and a small post-it note that read "This one's on me. " Malik recognized the handwriting immediately and a wry smile twisted his lips. What was Altaïr planning now?

They arrived at the coffee shop where Altaïr and his friends worked within minutes and the two Al-Sayf brothers walked in. Malik nears the cash registers, expecting to see Altaïr there waiting with some sort of explanation, but he was mysteriously absent. He glanced towards Ezio, Connor, and Aveline – a young woman hired a year or two after Malik and Altaïr had first met who seemed particularly close with Connor – but they were strangely busy despite having very little customers. In fact, all the customers had already been served and seemed quite involved in their conversations. Even Kadar had disappeared from his side – probably for the bathroom.

Something was up, but Malik couldn't quite discern what it was. He approached the counter, eventually clearing his throat when no one seemed to notice him. Aveline eventually came to his aid, a poorly hidden smile gracing her full lips. "Yes?" she said politely, her beautiful eyes dancing.

"The usual," Malik said, eyes narrowing slightly. Why did it seem as if everyone else was aware of the unusual situation but him? He gave her the money left for him in the envelope and she thanked him, quickly gliding back to where Ezio and Connor stood. Malik went to stand in the waiting area, his suspicion growing once he noticed that none of them were even trying to prepare his drink. Instead they stood huddle together, speaking in hushed whispers. Letting his gaze sweep through the shop, Malik watched as none of the customers seemed to think anything was wrong. Was literally _everyone _in on this? And where the hell was Altaïr?

The latter of his questions was answered just as he was ready to leave or complain. Altaïr appeared from the back, swerving around the counter to approach Malik with a stunning smile. In his hands was a familiar cup of coffee. Malik eyed it and his boyfriend warily; the gesture seemed normal enough, but Altaïr was never this… _joyful_ over such a menial, weekly task. And was that a hint of nervousness Malik detected?

"Kadar gave you my note, then?" Altaïr tilted his head, capturing Malik's lips with his own in a soft kiss.

"Yes," Malik said quickly, peering over Altaïr's shoulder. He wasn't keen on public displays of affection, but even now, none of the customers were paying the pair any attention. "Altaïr, what's all this about? Everyone's behaving very oddly."

"Nothing gets past you," Altaïr chuckled, though his voice wavered slightly and he swallowed. His nine and a half fingers drummed subconsciously against the cup in his hands, and Malik's gaze dropped to it.

"So… can I have my coffee now?"

Altaïr let out a shaky exhale and suddenly Malik was aware of Ezio's, Connor's, and Aveline's eyes on them. Choosing to ignore this detail, Malik extended his hand for the drink only to find that, when Altaïr placed it in his hand, that it was empty.

Malik's brow knitted together and he frowned. He looked up into Altaïr's golden gaze, raising an eyebrow. "Is this supposed to be a joke? April Fool's was months ago, Altaïr."

"I-I know." Altaïr gently pried the cup out of Malik's hand, placing a finger to the protesting man's lips. "Just… just listen." Altaïr's elated expression had dimmed and he licked his lips anxiously. "Malik, you… you know I love you, right?"

Malik sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, or at least I'd hope so."

"And you love me?"

"Altaïr, honestly, what are you—"

"Please," Altaïr begged, almost fretfully. "I just… I need to hear it from you again, right now."

Malik pursed his lips, painfully conscious of how quiet the shop had gotten. He cleared his throat, looking off to the side. "Yes, Altaïr," he mumbled softly. "I do love you."

"That very first day you came in," Altaïr murmured, closing the gap between them and smiling lightly, "you looked so angry. You had such a scowl on your face."

"Yeah, well, coffee withdrawals make me unhappy."

"When it was your turn to order, all you did was stare at me."

"I… you looked weird."

"Weird? I think you mean handso—"

"No, definitely weird. Altaïr, why are you suddenly so sentimental—"

"Well, _you _were by far the most beautiful customer I had ever served."

Malik blinked, frowning again. "You learned that line from Ezio, didn't you?"

Altaïr rubbed the back of his head. "No, why would you think that?" Malik saw Ezio grin widely in the distance. "Alright, maybe I did, but it's true!"

"All this is nice and wonderful, Altaïr," Malik replied, patience wearing thin, "but that still doesn't answer my question about the empty cup." He grabbed it again and before Altaïr could snatch it back, popped the lid off with his thumb. "What was the point in giving me the money and having me pay—"

Malik's breath caught in his throat. The cup wasn't empty after all. Everything around him seemed to dissolve and it was instantly twice as hard to breathe. On the bottom of the cup, surrounded by a thin chain, was a single silver ring.

"That's an…"

"Engagement ring." Altaïr wrung his hands, golden eyes shimmering hopefully. "I – I didn't know how else to ask you, I tried to be original. Kadar helped, actually, he told me to act fast before someone else steals you away, but I was just so nervous because I was worried you didn't want such a commitment, but when Kadar told me you were—" Altaïr inhaled shakily, taking Malik's hand – which still held the cup – in his.

"I – I want this, Malik," he continued, swallowing. "And before you get upset, I didn't get these lines from Ezio. I want this because I love you and I want to continue loving you til the day I die. You gave my life direction the moment you entered it… you're the only one who will tell me my outfit looks terrible, or that my hair's an absolute mess, or that I should never attempt to sing ever again. You'll eat my cooking even when it's what you call 'garbage' and let me crash at your place whenever I work the late shift. You and Kadar have so graciously allowed me into your lives, and I'm honestly blessed to be a part of your family." Altaïr offered a lopsided grin as he sank onto one knee, pouring out the ring into the palm of his hand.

"Will you, Malik Al-Sayf, allow me, Altaïr ibn La'Ahad, the honor of calling you my husband?"

Malik openly gaped, at a complete loss for words. He wanted to scream yes, but at the same time he was still trying to comprehend the situation. Still trying to catch up. Altaïr was proposing – he was – this was – he should – he was going to get _married_?

That was, if he could get his voice to work.

He managed to whisper "yes" and suddenly the tension dissipated and everyone seemed to sigh in relief. The entire café burst into applause as the customers stood and cheered. Ezio whooped loudly, winking, as Connor clapped politely and Aveline nodded appreciatively. Kadar rushed forward, followed closely by Maria.

"Congrats, brother!" Kadar exclaimed, surrounding Malik in a hug and resting his cheek on the top of Malik's head (he had had a ridiculous growth spurt since Altaïr had first met him). "I'm so happy you said yes! Now Altaïr can officially be my brother-in-law, this is so great. I bet you weren't expecting this, huh? Nice surprise, wasn't it? I so wanted to tell you, I really did, but I knew it'd spoil everything and Altaïr told me not to, but I was just so excited and I—"

Maria laid a hand on Kadar's shoulder, kindly silencing him. "Put the ring on him, Altaïr," she murmured, eyes twinkling.

Altaïr detangled the chain connected to the ring, holding it in both hands. Malik inclined his head, allowing Altaïr to place it around his neck, and as he felt the cold metal graze his collarbone, he suddenly couldn't hold back a smile. This was real, it was official. He opened his mouth to speak but Altaïr beat him to it, grabbing Malik's jaw with both hands and hastily bringing him forward into a deep kiss. The cheering renewed – Ezio's "finally!" was especially easy to hear – as Malik returned the gesture, hand grasping the back of Altaïr's shirt.

At last, they pulled apart, nudging noses. Both men had mile-long smiles, gold and brown eyes locked. Altaïr pressed in to place another kiss on the corner of Malik's mouth, then another on his nose, his eyes, his forehead, anywhere Malik's skin was currently exposed. The newly-engaged couple wished they weren't in a public building, but the bedroom.

"I want my money back," Malik whispered, trying to ignore his rising desire for Altaïr.

"You mean _my _money?"

"Then I want my coffee."

Altaïr finally stopped bathing Malik in kisses long enough to smirk, fingering the ring hanging from Malik's neck. "Anything for you, _sweetie_."


End file.
